


Contact

by dhyanshiva



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Related, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhyanshiva/pseuds/dhyanshiva
Summary: Aman and Kartik are soulmates and upon discovering one another, they maintain a steady relationship, distance meaning nothing as their bond strengthens over time. Their marks mean that they're destined for one another, but will life separate them instead? When they finally meet, are they fated to be pulled apart or will they triumph over adversity?
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 44
Kudos: 55





	1. Murphy and Music

**Author's Note:**

> I publish the first of 4 chapters now and this is the 100th publication under this tag. I've loved seeing the number climb from about 20 to where we are now. I am wholly indebted to Hitesh and his incredible writing of our wonderful pair and SMZS as a whole. It's due to this Experience of a movie that I've returned to writing and its a wonderful feeling. I hope you enjoy 'Contact'!
> 
> Love,  
> Dhyan x

Aman aligned the stack of papers on his desk, relived that most of the marking was done. It had been painful, to say the least, to read the basic errors students had made, despite constant correction. He removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but he swore there were indentations on there from the frame. Sighing resignedly, he rose from his desk, body aching from having sat hunched up for hours on end. Glancing up at the clock, it didn’t surprise him that it was half 11, the time seemed to fly by, and he was getting much lesser sleep than he liked. He made it through the hallway towards his bedroom, head a jumbled mess. He hadn’t even bothered to pack up the work, evidence of his exhaustion. In that haze, Aman could feel a sense of excitement brewing – for what exactly, he didn’t know. It was midnight by the time he was in bed, the sound of the Ganga’s flowing waters lulling him to sleep. Just as his eyes shut completely, he felt a dull ache in his left forearm, and the sensation of something being etched on the skin there was curious, though he didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. Within seconds, he was out like a light.

Kartik was thrumming with energy, the activity in his mind overriding weariness that entirely. Tomorrow was his 30th birthday – his soulmate would know. He had seen the first mark only a week ago and the anticipation was too much to bear. Kartik traced the ink on his inner wrist the outline of the name already so familiar: Aman Tripathi. He glanced at his phone for the time, reaching for his house keys with his free hand. Hearing the lock click, he pushed open the door, eager to get to bed. It had been a strenuous day, the writing process slower than usual. They’d struggled with inspiration, with the composition. Despite their continued effort, Kartik and his team were running in circles, it felt like something was missing. By the end of the day, he was exhausted. Despite his disappointment, he hoped that something would come up and that spark of anticipation, of hope is what kept him going, pushing him forward. It was midnight by the time he got under the covers and the last thing he registered was a familiar warmth spread through his forearm. Smiling, he fell asleep, excited to finally be able to interact with the other man.

Come morning, Aman realised he’d overslept and ran around the flat, hoping desperately to make it on time – he didn’t need any additional complications. The remainder of the day went by in a blur and he felt a constant tingling in his left hand and forearm but decided to address it later. It was only when he came home and had gotten some food in him that he could catch a break and look at what was up.  
Rolling up his shirt sleeve to the elbow, the first thing that caught his eye was a name. The print was bold and neat, reading ‘Kartik Singh’. Aman repeated the name out loud, over and over, a warmth flooding through his chest. It was a beautiful name, and this man was his. Aman let his eyes roam over the rest of his forearm and palm, curious. There were a few words scattered over the expanse, some words blurred or even indecipherable. The handwriting was thin and messy.

He felt his heart speed up, excitement thrumming through him. Glancing up at the clock, he figured that Kartik was probably at home, winding down and picked up a pen. Trying not to overthink it, he wrote down the first message to his soulmate. No time like the present to establish contact, he supposed. Kartik was laying back on the sofa, idly switching TV channels when he sensed a feather light touch on his forearm. Glancing down, he nearly let out a squeal at the words that formed – his soulmate was here! He dared not blink as the words formed, slowly, each letter written beautifully.

“Hi, I’m Aman. How are you?’’

It was almost absurd, how elated Kartik became at such a small set of words. Nonetheless, he picked up a pen and scrawled a message back, as quickly as he could without making it illegible.  
“I’m Kartik, doing okay, I guess?”

It was in this manner that the next hour went by, just finding out basic facts about one another till Aman proposed the logical idea of exchanging phone numbers so that communication could become more efficient and less messy. Of course, their being soulmates meant that this ‘medium’ was always available to them but its best to be practical. It was a mutual decision to not disclose their social media handles and remove their profile photos – this would retain some control and an element of surprise, in a situation where everything else was decided for them. The two of them decided to forgo a few hours of sleep, preferring to talk to one another a little more, a sort – of – first date event.

Kartik was intrigued to know that Aman had been planning to shift base to Delhi for a while. In fact, as soon as this academic year was over, he’d be spending a few days with his parents and cousins then move here. His relief was palpable to Kartik, even via message and that they were already on the path to being in tune with one another. Likewise, Aman found Kartik’s current professional situation, his journey extremely interesting. They were opposites, one could say, in this respect. One, a musician and lyricist, the other a physics professor. He could see why Kartik chose this field and found himself in awe of the way Kartik framed his thoughts – the man was a magician with words. It was only when he missed a spam of messages from Kartik’s end due to nodding off momentarily that Aman decided to bid his soulmate goodnight.

Kartik smiled, Aman’s tiredness coming through in the minor typos and jumbled words. He too, bid the other man goodnight and set his phone down on the bedside table. For the first time in a few weeks, months, even, Kartik fell asleep feeling truly content and happy. Aman too, felt like a blanket of warmth had surrounded him. He’d heard from his colleagues and friends what the ‘process was like’ and couldn’t wait to walk the same road. All the while however, his own parents’ story kept him grounded, prevented him from flying sky high in dreams of an ideal future with Kartik. The ‘physics oriented’ part of him kept repeating Murphy’s Law on loop. He tried not to be this pessimistic, but it truly was difficult.

Shankar and Sunaina Tripathi aren’t soulmates and Aman could see how much this impacted their dynamic and the trickle-down effect on his own upbringing. It wasn’t necessary really, that one ‘ended up’ with their soulmate. Fate and life collided in this instance. His grandparents could stop their child’s respective marriages and forced Aman’s parents together. Yet, he could see it in their eyes that they weren’t able to forget their soulmates, even decades later. It was this fear that plagued him now. He hoped that life wouldn’t interfere in the plans of fate. He knew it would be a tougher journey for them but all the same, Aman hoped the destination would be him at Kartik’s side. He’d go through anything for that to manifest. Resolutely, Aman willed himself to sleep, comforted by his conviction.


	2. Words of Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week goes by and inspiration strikes.

It was in this manner that a week or so went by. Each conversation, be it brief or a late night discussion, the occasional phone call thrown in, only served to affirm what both Kartik and Aman had felt from the offset: ‘he’s The One for me’. One evening, when Aman was scarily close to having a(nother) mental breakdown due to the atrocious workload, his phone began to ring. The sound broke his chaotic spiral of thoughts and glancing at the screen seemed to make the stress vanish, just like that. Answering the call and bringing it up to his ear, he was surprised to hear an undertone of caution and concern in Kartik’s greeting. The timing of the call was nothing short of a miracle. All the frustration that had been culminating into a scream abated at the sound of his voice and Aman shut his eyes, feeling reassured and comforted suddenly.

“Aman, hey… is everything alright? My temples began to ache out of nowhere and I felt annoyed and exhausted, all at once. I figured they weren’t my emotions, so do you want to talk about it?”

Pushing away from his desk, Aman stood up, abandoning a pile of work that, frankly, could be procrastinated on for another hour or so. He always did have the tendency to push himself to breaking point unnecessarily. Settling down on the sofa, he got entirely too comfortable for someone who had to get back to the grind in a while. Listening to Kartik talk about his progress in the studio was insightful and highly entertaining. The joy in his voice at doing something he loves touched Aman. The positivity that he held on to, even in the face of adversity and obstacles coming up all too often, it inspired Aman. The fog in his mind seemed to clear a little and soon, Aman reciprocated in kind, telling Kartik about the highs and lows of teaching intelligent yet utterly chaotic young people. There were problems, new ones every day but the fun was in overcoming them with his students. They offered a new perspective and Aman gave him a few instances. In the middle of recalling a particularly hilarious incident, his sentence got cut off by Kartik’s laughter. He listened to the sound in awe, absolutely mesmerised by its richness. In the expression of joy, many held back, Aman being one of them. This was new and welcomed with open arms, Kartik’s knack of wearing his heart on his sleeve, being so unguarded.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

It took a few seconds for Kartik to register what he’d said. Once he did, his heart skipped a beat. In fear, anticipation? He didn’t know. But it was the silence that had descended on the other end that perplexed him. He felt an inexplicable sadness cloud his euphoria for a moment. That was Aman, but why? Tentatively, he tried to figure out the reason without asking the question out loud. He meant what he said. This man was a gem. Amazing didn’t even begin to cover the words one could use to describe Aman Tripathi. Kartik new this wasn’t the bond speaking. Had he been acquainted with Aman in casual or professional capacity, he knew he’d come to the same conclusion. This was just the beginning, too. They had a lifetime ahead with one another and Kartik knew there was so much more to discover and appreciate. Aman was witty, intelligent, soft spoken, determined, hardworking and well, he could write a whole album already. It upset him to know that being called amazing was a novelty for this wonderful man. Silently, he promised himself to make sure Aman knew how much of a great individual he was. It wouldn’t mean anything real till he internalised it, Kartik knew that. But this was a necessary pursuit that they’d embark on here on out. He was brought out of his thoughts by a soft voice finally responding and the words brought a sense of relief so strong that he felt breathless for a bit.

“Do you really think so? If so, thank you, Kartik. I – No one’s ever said anything with that much sincerity to me before. I know you truly mean it, I can feel your honesty through the bond. My heart has accepted the compliment but it’s my mind that’s struggling to catch up, I’m afraid. So, truly, thank you.”

They continued to chat, the topic shifting toward the future and both men realised that a new level of understanding had been touched upon in that moment. By the time they bid each other goodbye, the emotion that coursed through them both was gratitude, for one another and for the conversation. Aman returned to the tedious work with renewed vigour and a less burdened heart, a smile playing on his lips as he worked. He scribbled the invaluable phrase in a blue notebook that was laying there and wrote Kartik Singh underneath. He’d cherish this, both the other man’s affection and the impact of his words. 

Getting to back to work, Kartik struggled to focus once more on the score before him. The notation was in progress and he toyed with his pen, soon getting lost in the conversation that had taken place only moments ago. For what felt like the hundredth time since Aman received the mark, Kartik cursed the distance between them. All he wanted to do was envelop this angel a hug and not let go for a long while. Looking around, he felt for the first time an acute sense of emptiness and the feeling that this space was too big for him. Deciding he’d spent too much time on one thing alone, Kartik brought out his lyric notebook and tried brainstorming for new ideas. A few minutes later, he realised he’d delayed dinner enough, and fixed something up. As he ate, an idea began to form, and by the time he’d set the dishes to dry and gotten to bed, he knew exactly what his new project would be. He scrawled three words onto the palm of his hand before falling asleep, exhausted. It was at about the same time that Aman felt sleep overcome him and he barely acknowledged a light tingle on his palm. Before he could take a look, his eyes shut of their own accord and he was out like a light.

The next morning, while Aman was getting ready to head out, his eye fell on the blue notebook. He recalled writing something in it and opened it up to the first page. Glancing down at his hand, he saw the words ‘tum kaafi ho’ in Kartik’s messy script. Aman had come to realise that Kartik often wrote on his hand, rushing around as he did, and often forget to put the words somewhere permanent. More often than not, Aman was the same and he’d received timely messages from Kartik about a meeting or a deadline he’d written a ‘reminder’ for on his hand or had mentioned in passing. He took note of the phrase etched on his skin at this moment, jotting it down in the notebook, the sight of the familiar script making him smile. About 15 minutes later, he was out of the house, ready to seize the day.


	3. Fear of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things don't last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the calm before the storm :)

Weeks flew by and both became consumed with work. Kartik’s album was almost done, close to post production. Term was coming to an end and Aman made plans to visit home for a few days, to collect some of his belongings and spend time with family before making his move to Delhi. The summer break would be adequate for the transition. It was only as he finished conversing with his parents that Aman remembered to update Kartik on the situation. Checking that he’d wrapped up his work for tonight, he settled down on the sofa with a mug of coffee and opened up the chat. He saw his soulmate was online and after confirming that he was free for a phone call, Aman dialled his number. Kartik’s greeting was as enthusiastic as ever and Aman felt uplifted instantly. Over the course of the conversation, he announced that he and his guitarist would be in Allahabad during Aman’s time at home and so, they could travel back to Delhi together, should things go to plan.

Kartik’s joy knew no bounds when they came to discussing Aman’s shift to Delhi. Kartik thought it too forward to suggest that Aman move in with him and so, kept it to himself. However, Aman too seemed to be toying with the idea and so, he kept the proposition aside for when the time did come. Soon, the topic veered away from this and it was hours later that they finally fell asleep, content and in the following days, they found no time to talk at length, the short conversations acting as milestones for their relationship.

Aman had been home for a day or two and found unexpectedly so, that he’d miss them dearly when he left for Delhi, especially Rajni. Yes, the lived in the same city but it had been a while since he’d spent every waking moment with someone else, not a moment’s peace or solitude. The chaos of the Tripathi household was so far removed from the peace and quiet of his flat that Aman was utterly disoriented and so, found it hard to fall back into old habits. He’d been evading answering questions about his soulmate and kept his wrist hidden under gauze and full sleeves. He’d caught his parents’ pointed glances directed at the area and then away, affronted that he was keeping this from them. Aman knew it was for the best. Perhaps he’d tell them when he was finally away and safe. It was no secret, what his father thought about ‘people like them’. His mother? Well, she’d most likely side with her husband and keep her opinions buried away. One small error on his part and all hell broke loose.

Kartik was to arrive in Allahabad the following morning and so, Aman had deemed it fit to open the coveted blue notebook and revisit some of his soulmate’s most memorable phrases. It was late, around 11 PM and so, no one would be awake. Finally, some peace and quiet. Some of them were witty, the odd quip or catchphrase but some were snippets of lyrics or a set of notes. Aman cherished his thoughts and it was a reminder of the complexity that he often kept hidden under a shroud of light heartedness and carefree attitude. Aman considered texting him but soon dismissed the idea – they’d be meeting tomorrow anyway. Leaving the notebook open, he went downstairs for a glass of water. At the same time, Shankar Tripathi entered the room, searching for one of his old textbooks that was kept on Aman’s bookshelf. His eyes fell on the open notebook on the bed and rather than ignore it and do what he came to do, Aman’s father picked it up. It was a (bad, though no one ever said it out loud) habit of his to completely disregard Aman’s privacy and independence and so, he thought it perfectly natural to dig out answers to questions that his son refused to answer.

Within seconds, the pieces fell into place as his eyes flew over the quotes and the corresponding name. Shankar had done something similar like this for Rani and so, the conclusion was obvious. He let the book fall out of his hands, letting it fall face down on the duvet, one of the corners getting crumpled. He felt fury and disgust well up in him and the smashing of glass behind him made the scientist whirl around. There stood Aman, eyes wide and fear clear in his countenance. He watched as Aman grabbed the book, clutching it protectively and waited for his father to react. Wordlessly, he stormed out of the room, ignoring his son’s pleas of ‘Papa, listen’. The rest of the family had emerged from their rooms at the commotion and stood bewildered and confused. Suddenly, Shankar came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard. Aman nearly slammed into him and before he could steady himself, a stinging slap sent him to the ground, the notebook flying out of his hands.

It was another fortnight later that Kartik and Vikas, his friend and guitarist, boarded the train to Allahabad. They’d settled into their berths and Kartik was finding it difficult to fall asleep. He couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension that clouded his excitement and anticipation. For a moment, he thought of texting Aman but dismissed the idea – they’d be meeting tomorrow anyway. Just as sleep began to lure him in, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up on him, he felt a surge of fear through the bond. It shook him out of his daze and he sat up, bewildered. He’d barely gotten himself upright and fully awake when another shock jolted his system. His head snapped to one side and Kartik felt his cheek burn, palms sting. Immediately, he knew what had happened. Frantically, he texted Aman. No response. 5 calls that went to voicemail. 

Kartik persisted throughout the night, his fear reaching new heights with every moment that passed. Aman was in grave danger and the hastily scribbled word ‘HELP’, scratched into the delicate skin of his palm that arrived sometime in the night only aggravated him further. Kartik knew what could be going down and so, didn’t risk responding like this. Allahabad couldn’t arrive fast enough. He prayed his soulmate would be okay though the fear and pain flowing through the bond kept telling him otherwise.


	4. Portraits and Penmanship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kartik arrives and is welcomed by something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter has to be split in half as it was becoming a little too long and there's a lot happening.

The train had barely come to a stop at the station before Kartik leapt off, ignoring Vikas’ confused shouts from behind him. The monotone voice rang out over the loudspeakers that the 7 AM train was to arrive on another platform but the din faded to nothing as Kartik focused on one thing, one person: Aman. He got into the first auto at hand and managed to get the address of Aman’s house across, despite the lump in his throat. The journey only took 10 minutes, but each second seemed to drag by. He spent each moment alternating between messages and calls, the lack of response, the emptiness of the bond worrying him all the more. Strong though his emotions were, he couldn’t feel anything from the other end. At least a few hours ago, there was something to go by, terrifying as it was. It was reassuring to know he was alive, at least. He was yanked out of his spiral by the abrupt halt of the rickshaw. Trying not to seem too rattled, he paid the fare and got out, grip on his luggage tightening at the sight of the house before him. Hesitantly, he walked towards the main gate and it was when Kartik pushed it open that he heard something that made his heart stop, then begin to race, blood roaring in his ears.

The mantras rang through the air, their meaning clear: someone had died. Their last rites were being conducted and with that thought, adrenaline taking control, Kartik broke out into a sprint. He pushed open the door, a hatch of sorts and ducked, entering the courtyard. The slam caused a clang to echo through the air, cutting short a chant midway. As he rose to his full height, he registered absolute silence and everything frozen, activity suspended at his sudden arrival. He saw two elderly couples on one side, a woman in an simple lehenga, disheartened and worried at first glance. A young man stood next to her, clutching a tablet to his chest, staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and shock. They stood around a havan kund, on opposite sides, the pandit’s arm outstretched, ghee spilling into the fire. It’s what was placed in front of it that knocked the wind right out of him, however.

Sunlight glinted off the wooden frame and the photo.. Kartik knew without anyone uttering a word that it was Aman, his Aman and the realisation made his knees give way. The bag fell at his feet, Kartik following suit as he fell apart, knees hitting the ground, sobs wracking his frame. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been this. The emptiness was compounded by his own agony and this new emotion tore his heart to shreds. Interspersed between his sobs were screams of pain and grief. He wanted to die, in that moment, where everything fell apart. Fate wasn’t done toying with him, playing with his heart, his soul like this. The chance, the moment where he met his soulmate had been ripped out of hands and the alternative was his worst nightmare. Irrational thoughts came crowding in and somehow, Kartik managed to pin the blame on himself, that HE was too late to save Aman from this and as a consequence, he’d lost this wonderful man forever.

There was a storm of emotions brewing within him and alongside grief came rage, unadulterated and a force to be reckoned with. Slowly, he got to his feet and surveyed his company, trying to discern who Aman’s parents were, who his father was, in particular. It wasn’t difficult and the man’s expression only added to Kartik’s fury. The satisfaction, conviction on his face confused him. Didn’t the man recognise what had happened? He’d lost his son. The woman stood next to him seemed anxious, her gaze flitting between him and her husband. Before Kartik could make his way to them, to try and knock some sense into them, demand answers, something caught his eye. A blue notebook, open and face down, discarded in a far corner of the courtyard.

A few hours ago

Aman could feel the sting of his cheek but refused to outwardly acknowledge it. He wouldn’t give his father that satisfaction. He stood up, not relinquishing his hold on the notebook. He could see the unabating fury in his father’s eyes, the glare cold and piercing. His mother’s pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. Still, his father didn’t say a single word and Aman figured it was best not to say anything first. In that tense silence, his phone continued to draw attention, vibrating with calls and text message notifications. Suddenly, it was pulled out of his grasp and flung away, hitting the ground and shattering. Aman went completely still, shock rendering him speechless. Instinctively, he felt his body hunch when Shankar Tripathi turned to face him once more. He held his stare, however, knowing he couldn’t back down.

A part of Aman’s mind had gone numb in the face of this turn of events. The man stood before him was almost unrecognisable. While son and father didn’t have the warmest relationship, there was always a semblance of pride and warmth in those eyes. However, that gaze had become both frigid and fiery, fixed on Aman such that Shankar Tripathi could’ve pierced holes through the lenses of his glasses with the intensity. Aman braced himself for another slap, or worse. He barely managed to hold his ground as his father took slow strides to stand before him again, an inch of space between them. He didn’t dare breathe as his father knelt down a little to whisper a sentence that quite frankly, he’d been expecting. It broke him like nothing else, regardless.

“Stay away from him, or else.”

With that, his father straightened and stepped back. Immediately, his gaze fell to the notebook in Aman’s grasp and for a few moments, his gaze switched between Aman’s face and the book. In this moment, the younger man didn’t know what his father was capable of, but nothing could be worse than losing Kartik. Words had deserted Aman - his refusal to let go of this treasure seemed to speak volumes to his father. Holding his stare for a few moments, Aman took a deep breath and turned away, sparing a glance at the shattered phone. He’d made it to the other end of the courtyard when his father’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Sunaina, subah hote hi pandit ji ko bulao, kriya karam karwana hai. Humare liye Aman mar chuka hai.”


	5. Divisions and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe the fact that I've completed these pieces at all to Dhwani (@scintillatingstars), so thank you.
> 
> Once I threw Rajni's perspective into the mix, the length of this chapter doubled.. whoops? (Also, not proof read)
> 
> Please take a moment to read the second note.

There was silence as those words rang through the air. No, Aman hadn’t expected this. The book fell out of his hands and he raced towards the stairs, taking them two at a time, desperate to return to his safe haven before he broke down completely. Within a few moments, he’d locked the door behind him and sat there, worn down and defeated. He felt removed from his environment, as if this were a nightmare that simply wouldn’t end. He flopped down face down on the bed, but sleep evaded him completely.

Present time

A few hours later, Aman had shifted to the window seat, letting his family begin the day outside these doors. No one bothered to talk to him, either. He knew Rajni or Keshav would’ve endeavoured to but would likely have been stopped by his chachi or father. Out of nowhere, he felt a wave of fear overtake him and it pulled him out of stupor. Over the last few hours, he’d been noticeably uncomfortable and while he could have contacted Kartik, helplessness has stopped him. What could he possibly say? For what it was worth –

A scream tore through the air, shattering the (relatively) peaceful morning and breaking his train of thought. Aman rose from his seat, confused. Who was that? With that raw shout came a flash of agony and pain so powerful that it quite literally brought Aman to his knees as he tried to make his way to the door. He struggled to get up and it was as if the wind had been knocked out of him with a brutal punch. Suddenly, the burn lessened as he registered a multitude of emotions. Somehow, he made it to the door and unlocking it, pulled it open. Where he expected the sound of mantras to be amplified as he stepped out, there was silence. With renewed strength and curiosity, he made his way downstairs and crossed the courtyard, towards the archway that lead to the primary open space. That there was pin drop silence made him all the more intrigued. Paired with the confusion he felt due to the bond, Aman didn’t know what to expect.

Kartik knelt, picking up the notebook. It was a beautiful one, in his favourite shade of blue and on instinct, he held it close, shielding it from the others. Turning it over, a few words caught his eyes and within seconds, the significance of what he was holding hit him. The script was painfully familiar, even neater on paper and he ran his hand over the lines of ink in reverence. They words were his own, be it snippets of lyrics or parts of their conversations and he couldn’t believe that Aman had valued them so much. He fell against the wall, overwhelmed by the gesture, one which he couldn’t even thank his soulmate for. Sobbing anew, he soaked in each phrase, somehow all the more powerful when they weren’t written in his messy hand. He’d arrived at the middle of the book and turning the page, it was jarring to see that the writing ended halfway through, mid word too. That it was incomplete spoke volumes and it was with this that Kartik had to accept reality. Aman was gone.

Aman walked through the doorway to be greeted with a peculiar sight. The havan kund had been abandoned and his family members had formed a tight huddle in a corner of the courtyard. There was silence, save the sound of muffled sobbing. But if someone was crying, why wasn’t another family member comforting them? They seemed to be rendered speechless and motionless. So who was it? An idea struck him and in any other situation, he would have dismissed it as completely improbable, but could it be..? The scream, the silence after it. The agony now abated by an overwhelming sense of grief. After all, Kartik was due in Allahabad right about now. No one responded as Aman came closer and it was on hearing his voice that mayhem broke loose.

“Kartik?”

Utterly worn out and swamped in grief, Kartik was certain he was hallucinating. Aman’s family had been huddled around him, uncertain and somewhat concerned. Yet, they too reacted to the voice and when they stepped away, he didn’t dare look up. It was literally too good to be true, especially for him. He’d seen the fire, the photo with the garland, felt Aman’s absence via the bond. But in that moment, he felt the other end come back to life, the completely misplaced emotion of joy flaring up and easing the ache of his own heart, if only for a moment.

The group broke away to reveal a hunched figure, with his head down and Aman’s notebook in his hands. He looked genuinely defeated and one glance at this setup told Aman everything he needed to know. He couldn’t begin to fathom what was going through his mind, the emotions were telling in themselves. Why wasn’t he looking up, though? In fact, Kartik seemed to be trying his best not to, resisting an impulse of sorts.

There was silence as Aman walked up to him. The distance between them was only a few metres, yet time seemed to drag by, each step weighted and laborious, making it seem like kilometres. Eventually, he came to a stop in front of him and knelt, positioning himself such that Kartik was shielded from the group of people behind them. Gradually, he extended his left arm till the wrist was in the other man’s line of sight. Aman undid the cuff and pulled back the sleeve. There was a slight change in Kartik’s posture, the straightening of his spine. Aman pulled out the last of the gauze that was tucked underneath the layers and unwound the covering till it fell away and the small gasp it elicited made his heart soar.

Kartik’s hand shook as he reached out to trace the two words on this man’s wrist. Kartik Singh, his name, in print. Undeniable proof that this was real. He didn’t dare blink, lest this all be a dream and the man before him vanish when he opens his eyes once more. As soon as his finger made contact with the first K, he heard a small gasp of shock and wonder from.. Aman? Aman, his soulmate. Even when he was done with Singh, Kartik couldn’t bear to let go. He ghosted a thumb over the skin of his wrist, not daring to look up. Then, his chin was lifted by a gentle hand and Kartik found himself looking into a pair of warm brown eyes. The anguish and relief he saw there mirrored his own and though it may sound ridiculous, in that moment, Kartik felt as if he’d been brought back to life. It was almost too good to be true but when Aman’s hand shifted to cup his cheek and he could still feel its warmth, that’s when he dared take comfort from what was before him. It was all very much real and -

Before Aman could say another word, he found himself clutching a sobbing Kartik Singh and instinctively, his arms rose to return the embrace. he had hidden his face in Aman’s shoulder, and he could feel dampness there within seconds. He ran a hand up and down Kartik’s back, in an attempt to soothe him. There was no use in speaking, for there was nothing more to say and so, Aman channelled all his love, comfort and reassurance through the bond, hoping Kartik would pick up on all he wanted to communicate. A few moments later, Kartik unwound his arms from around Aman’s neck and pulled away.

Aman’s breath caught once more, unable to deny the effect that Kartik had on him. The smallest touch to his wrist had dopamine coursing through his mind, adrenaline through his veins. But when he smiled, oh Lord, Aman swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful in all his years of living. Tears had created tracks on Kartik’s face but the wide smile, so open and loving, rendered him speechless. The sun in the sky had nothing on the man knelt before him for Aman couldn’t begin to comprehend the glory, the light in his visage, the expression conveying a multitude of emotions.

The notebook had been sandwiched between them and Kartik picked it up, holding it out to the rightful owner. But Aman didn’t lift it out of his grasp. Instead, he held it on the opposite end and smiled. Kartik understood what he meant, though.

“We can fill in the rest of the pages in our own time.”

The magnitude of those words hit Kartik all at once and he couldn’t help but engulf Aman in another bear hug. Someone cleared their throat from behind them and it was a painful reminder, sobering too, that they had an audience. Kartik looked up to see the young woman walking towards them, a smile on her face, somewhat nervous too. Taking his hand, Aman stood up and they turned to face the Tripathis as one. Rajni came to stand in front of them and for a few moments, it appeared as if she didn’t know what to say.  
Rajni Tripathi had watched the scene unfold with bated breath, a lump in her throat. It didn’t surprise her in the least that her cousin’s soulmate was another man. For God’s sake, she’d grown up with Aman and in some ways, knew him better than himself. They’d gotten through the havoc that is known as adolescence together. She’d seen the lightly veiled longing in his eyes for Akshay from 10th, Dev in university. They’d never really acknowledged either of these people alound but when Aman snuck into her room at the dead of night, body wracked by unshed tears, she’d held him, comforted him, seen him through the pain. Rajni Tripathi swore she’d never let her cousin down and she intended to hold true to that promise.

Just a few hours ago, she’d watched in agony as tauji created havoc in the courtyard, throwing words as sharp as knives at his son, without mercy. Looking at Aman then, she saw the return of disappointment in those large brown eyes, the heartbreak from years ago, manifest alongside a hint of determination. She cheered silently as he walked away, barely able to hold in her pride at her cousin’s strength. Then, tauji took all of it a step further and she watched as Aman broke once more. This time, the pieces were too scattered to bring together once more and one stern glance from her mother was all it took to stop her from helping Aman collect them. She watched as he ran upstairs and unable to bear the suffocating open space any longer, ran to her own room, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

When Kartik had burst through that door, she’d been surprised, sure but it was nothing in the face of what happened next. She’d watch the tall man take in everything around him, saw him begin to comprehend the setup, Aman’s photo. Watching him shatter completely had destroyed her and she’d wanted to rush forward and embrace him, as she would have with Aman. There was a dull thud from upstairs, but she ignored it, her focus entirely on the grieving man before her. She would have dispelled his misconceptions immediately but found herself frozen, words dying in her throat. Why would he believe her? After all, she was stood on this side, that of the enemy. The rage he directed at tauji said this loud and clear – in this man’s eyes, they were nothing but sinners. Then, as quickly as it had come, his fury simmered away.

She saw him pick up the notebook and leaf through its pages. Aman was very protective over his possessions, more so in this visit and it angered her beyond measure that tauji had broken his trust so uncaringly. She’d felt glued to the spot but with some difficulty, Keshav by her side, made her way to the hunched figure. Still, she maintained a good foot of distance between them, knowing he needed a little space. She saw taiji come up on Keshav’s other side and her dear Papa rest a hand on her shoulder in understanding. They stood there, spellbound as this man wept unabashedly, holding the small notebook as one would a holy scripture. Suddenly, she heard Aman’s voice, the confusion and fear in his voice as he called out a name, the stranger’s name. Their group broke away and she barely held back a sob of relief at the sight of her cousin, alive and well, come to do what they didn’t dare to.

She’d watched Aman transform completely, watched his guard finally come down and her heart had gone out to the pair – all this pain could have been avoided had tauji not been so cruel and hard hearted. She had shaken off her mother’s hand, which had squeezed her forearm in lieu of a warning. This was no time to be silent. It was time to act. And so, she’d approached the couple after they broke away. Stood on front of them now, unsure of what to say. Instead of meeting Aman or Kartik’s eyes, she chose to focus on their clasped hands and saw Aman tighten his grip. Clearly, he didn’t know what to expect and really, that stung. The action spoke more than he ever could and it told her what to do. Let the elders do what they like – so far as she was concerned, this was the only thing would put things in order, after all this chaos.

Aman waited with a lump in his throat as his cousin seemed to consider something. He saw her gaze shift to his and Kartik’s hands, the latter’s tattoo visible. He trusted Rajni, without a doubt. Keshav and chacha too. Yet, he wouldn’t fault her if she chose to stay in their court – ths kind of choice shouldn’t exist in the first place and the havoc from a few hours ago wasn’t something he could push under the carpet. It hurt like hell and he wouldn’t want his wonderful cousin to go through the same thing. She’d faced enough, Lord knows she didn’t need more pain.

“Welcome to the family, Kartik.”

For a moment, Kartik thought he’d heard wrong – surely, after all this, there was only contempt in the Tripathis hearts? But he could feel the tension seep out of Aman’s posture, one he probably didn’t know had taken root. He saw a hesitant smile on the younger woman’s face as she held out her arms. From beside him, he heard Aman let out a choked sob as he stepped forward to embrace her, his hand still holding Kartik’s. She didn’t lower the other arm as one wrapped over his shoulders. A slight nod from her and he stepped forward, completing the hug. A whispered ‘thank you’ from her and Kartik let go of his inhibitions, accepting her affection completely. He’d found a family with Aman and his sister. He glanced at Aman’s mother, who was dabbing at the corner of her eye with end of her sari, a watery smile on her face. Looking at her, Kartik knew he’d found a mother. Her husband looked ashamed and uncomfortable and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to hold a grudge against the older man any longer.

The three of them pulled away and with Aman in tow, Kartik Singh walked up to Shankar Tripathi. Time seemed to stop and there was absolute silence. He watched the older man fidget a little and tried not to prolong his awkwardness. Letting go of Aman for just a moment, he bent down and touched a father’s feet, hoping, praying, that he would accept him as a son. A breath he didn’t know was trapped within him was let out at the sensation of a hand coming to rest on his hair, firm and unwavering.

“Sadaa sukhi raho, beta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 2 other ideas on the back burner but I doubt they'll come to fruition. Hence, I take this moment after the final chapter of 'Contact' to say that this is most likely my last piece for SMZS. Thank you to all the amazing writers I've had the honour of interacting with via this tag. It's a niche, sure, but it's one I'll cherish.
> 
> Thank you to Iqra, Sargun, Sam and Mehan, for your invaluable support.
> 
> Much love,  
> Dhyan x


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